[blockquote source=”Basho “]“I am one who eats his breakfast, gazing at the morning-glories.”[/blockquote]

I saw a little red flower growing outwards and up from beneath a moss covered rock – like a glowing ember, reluctant to surrender its sweetness to the mounting ash…and just begging to be adored.

I’ve always felt that a flower’s purpose on this earth is to stop the muddled-headed humans in our tracks. To give us a reason to pause, and take notice of the littler things.

Like the lure of honeysuckle dripping from an evening summer’s breeze – in this moment of stillness, it takes our breath away.

In an instant, we are persuaded…captivated.

Such is the blessing of a flower to the summer’s breeze; and in it’s softness there is great power.

For even the tiniest of roots will find the weak spots in ego’s walls…

And creating the most perfect conditions for the subtlety of its grace to take hold.